


Suspicious

by Eligh



Series: Various Musings on How Clint Barton Should Join Phil Coulson's Motley Crew [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Deaf Clint Barton, M/M, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 16:29:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3177127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eligh/pseuds/Eligh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who the hell is Clint Barton, and why is he yelling at Coulson?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suspicious

“I don’t know,” Skye said slowly, trying to be nonchalant about her creeping and utterly failing. Melinda rolled her eyes, snorted lightly, and went back to cleaning her guns. Skye immediately retaliated by shoving her lightly on the shoulder. “No, really. What’s their deal? And we’re just supposed to _trust_ him?”

“Yes,” Melinda affirmed. Skye frowned, unimpressed with her succinctness.

Across the wide mechanic’s bay, Clint Barton was busily gesturing in Coulson’s direction, his fingers flying and his face angry. Coulson was watching him with a blank yet vaguely aggravated expression, his arms crossed.

After a moment more, he held up an arresting hand, and the tirade of ASL stopped. Barton screwed up his face and dropped his hands.

“You left,” he said, and the pain in his voice carried easily through the empty bay.

Coulson glanced away, his eyes settling briefly on Melinda and Skye. Melinda didn’t blink—what Skye would give to have her effortless cool—but Skye suddenly found something interesting to inspect in the toolkit at her feet. And when she looked back up, Coulson was leading Barton to a small meeting room adjacent to the bay. He shot Melinda an unreadable look before he closed the door, but judging by the small smirk on her SO’s face, Skye was clearly missing something.

“What was that?”

“Privacy,” Melinda observed mildly. “Some people prefer it.”

Skye ground her teeth together and glared at the closed door Coulson’d disappeared behind. There was a beat of silence, and then—

Raised voices, muffled by the metal door. She turned to Melinda. “They are _shouting_ at one another. _Coulson_ is shouting.”

Melinda inspected the disassembled barrel of the pistol in her lap, the stiff cleaning brush in one hand trailing lightly over smooth metal. Her disinterest appeared to be turned up to eleven. “They do that sometimes.”

“And we’re just gonna let—” Skye protested, but snapped her mouth shut when Melinda shot her a Look. And okay, normally she doesn’t care if someone’s going to go ahead and yell at someone else. But Barton had just _appeared_ out of nowhere, arrows sprouting from the Hydra goons that had had them surrounded, and Coulson’d smiled and let out a relieved breath but Barton’d glowered and given him the cold shoulder until they got back to base and now they were _yelling_. This just didn’t make sense. She started to stand, to do something. Interfere.

“Don’t,” Melinda warned, her voice suddenly sharp, and Skye paused.

“But—”

“ _Don’t_.” Melinda flicked the edge of a rag in the direction of the closed door. “We trust Barton. They’ll work it out themselves.”

Skye chewed on her lower lip, her arms crossed, and gave Melinda a worried look. “You’re sure he’s—”

There was a crash. Skye’s head whipped around, her hand on her sidearm before she even registered that she’d moved. “That’s it,” she growled, and set off across the bay, utterly missing the exasperated sigh following her advance. Instead, she crossed the space in just a few seconds and had the door Coulson had put between them open in a half second more.

And then froze.

To be fair, the two men currently occupying the meeting room did so as well, both of them staring at her with wide eyes.

“I heard,” she began weakly, trying very hard not to look at how Barton had apparently found himself bent over the rickety desk, his hands white-knuckled against the far edge; or, for that matter, how neatly Barton’s bare ass fit into the hollow of Coulson’s equally-bare pelvis. Skye blinked once, slow, and when she opened her eyes again, they were directed firmly at the ceiling.

“I’m just gonna…” She gestured imprecisely over her shoulder. “Okay.” And she shut the door.

“I absolutely told you,” Melinda commented a few seconds later, but Skye barely heard her over how fast she was vacating the bay and the fiery blush that had taken up residence on the entirety of her head.


End file.
